We have a thing we are waiting for. It’s a big thing. We are waiting for it. We’ve been waiting for a while.
To answer the question that may have immediately jumped into your mind, no, I’m not pregnant. Though Dave enjoys the thought of maybe having a little girl. But with our luck, and my age, and my tendency to hyper ovulate, we’d end up with twin boys again. And I don’t know about you, but one set of twin boys is quite enough, thank you.
This is some other big thing, the thing we are waiting for. It’s an exciting thing, and it’s not really something I can share just yet. Which sucks, because it’s a preoccupying thing, and it’s a bit of a project, and it’s commandeered a lot of my brain. So I while I can’t really write about this thing, it is also sucking my energy to write about other stuff.
We’ve been waiting now for a long enough time that it’s hard to even be excited for this thing. Gretchen Rubin said in her book that it’s not always having things that make us happy, it’s the anticipation of having the thing. Which makes total sense.
But. But now it’s been so long, my anticipator is broken. Which is not really a surprise. I’ve never been a fan of long term goals. Long term goals are so faaaar awaaaaay. And in the amount of time I work toward a long term goal, my brain starts cranking out steady drum beat of self-doubt. Do I really want this thing? Is it ever really going to happen? Is it worth getting excited over? Will I end up being disappointed? Are my expectations too high? Should I just give up?
So I just try to regulate my enthusiasm, for fear of not getting the thing. Whatever the thing may be. It sounds much better and happy and poetic to live with exuberant enthusiasm, right? Doesn’t someone like that sound more fun to be around?
I’ve never felt like a pessimist. And looking back on how things have gone in my life, a great deal of worry and self doubt were ultimately fruitless. I’ve done lots of cool shit in my life. I’ve had some weird shit, and some icky shit, and maybe some regrettable shit. But mostly, on the whole, I’d really have to call myself lucky. All my shit has been relatively interesting and mostly great, even if I wasn’t aware of it at the time.
But does all the great shit happen in spite of the worry and self-doubt, or because of it? Does the extra caution and endless rumination actually help? Maybe balancing all those spinning plates and anticipating disappointment is a deterrent from those things from actually happening.
Either way, it probably doesn’t fricken matter. Because fish gotta swim. Birds gotta fly. I gotta unjustifiably anticipate disappointment and be pleasantly surprised and glad when things actually work out.
So I’m just going to sit over here and chew my nails and wait some more. I’m super pleasant to be around.